William, white as death, lay in his corner, weeping in his sleep.
I roused him remorselessly, and he sat up scowling, but refused to
tell me what he had been dreaming.
"Was it about that third thing you saw--" I began. But he snarled up
at me like a startled animal, and I was obliged to go to bed and toss
about and speculate.
The next morning it rained. Dorothy and I visited our dingue-trap but
found nothing in it. We were inclined, however, to stay out in the
rain behind a big tree, but Professor Smawl vetoed that proposition
and sent me off to supply the larder with fresh meat.
I returned, mad and wet, with a dozen partridges and a white
hare--brown at that season--and William cooked them vilely.
"I can taste the feathers!" said Professor Smawl, indignantly.
"There is no accounting for taste," I said, with a polite gesture of
deprecation; "personally, I find feathers unpalatable."
"You may hand in your resignation this evening!" cried Professor
Smawl, in hollow tones of passion.
I passed her the pancakes with a cheerful smile, and flippantly
pressed the hand next me. Unexpectedly it proved to be William's
sticky fist, and Dorothy and I laughed until her tears ran into
Professor Smawl's coffee-cup--an accident which kindled her wrath to
red heat, and she requested my resignation five times during the
evening.
The next day it rained again, more or less. Professor Smawl complained
of the cooking, demanded my resignation, and finally marched out to
explore, lugging the reluctant William with her. Dorothy and I sat
down behind the largest tree we could find.
I don't remember what we were saying when a peculiar sound interrupted
us, and we listened earnestly.
It was like a bell in the woods, ding-dong! ding-dong! ding-dong!--a
low, mellow, golden harmony, coming nearer, then stopping.